


Dumpster Dive Into My Heart

by commandercrouton



Series: Reylo Drabbles & One-Shots [10]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Ben Solo Needs A Hug, Ben Solo is an Artist, Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotions, F/M, First Meetings, Fluff, Happy Ending, I didn't mean for it to get so emotional, Meet-Cute, Minor Angst, Minor time jump, Modern Era, One Shot, Rey is a Scavenger, reylo child
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-28
Updated: 2019-10-28
Packaged: 2021-01-07 11:09:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,872
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21215393
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/commandercrouton/pseuds/commandercrouton
Summary: Inspried by a tweet from Reylo Prompts: My art professor told us a story about how he hated all his art and threw it out at a dumpster by his campus and then a little while later he went to a girls dorm (who is now his wife) and she had it hanging on the wall :,)





	Dumpster Dive Into My Heart

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SageMcMae](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SageMcMae/gifts).

> Happy Birthday my darling! I am so sorry it is so late. I started like three fics, and I hated every one, so my darling beta sent me this prompt and here we are!
> 
> Thanks to my beta for all your support. I love you! [Elemie89](https://archiveofourown.org/users/elemie89/pseuds/elemie89)  


Ben stared at the paper with a critical eye. The coloring was a mash of bold shades blending into one cohesive unit, forcing the viewer to take the painting as a whole, despite the conflict of colors. 

He scoffed as he ripped it out of his notebook. Trash. 

The next one was a portrait of his hands. The charcoal smudges of the creases his skin were too perfect. Too real. He eyed the shadow of the hands, which he drew as large claws, taking over the paper—he wanted to capture the anger and monstrous feelings he felt that was within him.

It was garbage.

He stared at the next photo, almond eyes stared back at him with a mischievous look, but when the viewer looked closer, they could see the hardness in her eyes, hiding the hardness of her past. He didn’t know what captivated him to draw her eyes, but the moment she delivered his coffee to him at the campus coffee shop, he took out his pencils and drew them in. Ben stayed long into the night as he tried to capture the right balance of greens and browns—the fluorescent lighting did nothing for the image, and he tried to imagine her standing in the sunlight. 

Reaching out to tear this image out, his hand stilled, a huge part of him wanted to keep it for himself. A memento to remember the feeling of being inspired, something that has been long gone. 

Then the voice of his art professor crept into his mind. Professor Snoke made it clear what he thought of his new works—worthless, insignificant, mediocre, nothing like his grandfather’s work.

His eyes blurred as he tried to settle the feelings within him. Although Snoke was harsh, he knew he only did it to help him, to allow him to reach his full potential. 

“I’m shit and I need to get better,” he whispered and grabbed the papers as he walked out of his apartment. He hastily ran down the stairs and tossed the papers in the garbage can outside of the building, a precaution to prevent him from grabbing it again. He carried on with wide and open eyes, trying to take in the world for anything that would inspire him with art that would please Snoke. 

He could be better. He needed to be better.

\----

Rey walked home from her class, sighing as she tried to get the stain out of her shirt from work with a crumbling napkin. She wouldn’t get paid until that Friday, and had no detergent. Would dish soap work at getting a stain out? Finn did mention white vinegar was a good cleaning agent, and she is pretty sure they still have a bottle somewhere under the sink. This is what she gets for putting off laundry to the last minute.

Glancing up as she made her way to her apartment building, she found a beautiful night table with a wood finish on the curb. Who would throw something so sturdy away? It had a few scratches along the finishing, but nothing a walnut or sander wouldn’t fix. 

Yes, this would do quite nicely in their apartment. Maybe by the couch? She looked around, making sure no one would yell at her for taking stuff on the side of the road, when her eyes were drawn to a scattering of images at the top of the garbage can. She cautiously picked up the images, surprised to find not an ounce of trash on the papers. 

Flipping through the images, she was surprised someone would throw these images out. The drawings were really good. Some of the best she has ever seen, which wasn’t saying much since she was an engineering student, but she could tell the difference between good and bad—and none of these were bad. 

Shrugging her shoulders, she opened the drawer to the nightstand and placed the drawings in them, before dragging the table inside.

\---

“What are you doing?” Finn walked into her room, watching as she attempted to hang one of the images up.

“What does it look like?” She answered snarkily as she did her best to maintain a semblance of balance on her lumpy mattress.

“It looks like you are hanging up photos.”   
  
“It’s art. And yes, that is exactly what I’m doing. Can you hand me the next one, please?’

“The one with your eyes?”

Rey laughed. “It’s not my eyes.”

“I’ve seen you every day for how many years now? I think I can recognize your eyes by now. It’s pretty. Did you commission someone to draw it for you?”

She yanked the photo from his grasp and placed it on the left side of the harsh colored one. Rey examined it with a new gaze. Okay, maybe the colors were similar to her eyes, and so was the shape...but that didn’t mean it was  _ her _ . Anyone could have eyes like hers. 

“I told you, it’s not me. I found it.”

“Yeah, right.”

“It’s true! I found it when I brought up the table by the couch. Doesn’t it fit right in? I thought we could scavenge a nice bowl somewhere and have it for our keys.”

“You found an image of yourself in the trash, and didn’t think it was weird?”

“No, because it isn’t me. Does it look even?”

Finn rolled his eyes instead of pressing the matter. “Yeah, from here they do at least.”

“Aren’t they beautiful? I can’t believe someone would just throw these away.”

He tilted his head, staring at the images, trying to understand it. “I guess they are okay. I don’t know much about art though.”

“There’s just something about them. I don’t know—like I can understand them because I get to see things from their point of view.”

Finn stared at her for a moment, a small grin growing on his face. “Sounds like someone has a crush.”

“Oh come off it,” she laughed, hopping off the bed.

“At least you know they like you back.”

“Just for that, you’re cooking dinner.”

“I always cook dinner!” He retorted, following her out of the bedroom, shutting the door behind him. 

\----

Ben ran a frustrated hand through his hair, already feeling the tendrils of his raven locks end in disarray. Today was another failure. He watched in numbing horror as Snoke tore each project he presented to shreds. 

He never should have tried to get a Master’s in art. He should have listened to his mother and gone to law school, or become a pilot like his dad. He would be nothing like his grandfather. Snoke was right. He was worthless.

Yanking his backpack off, he burrowed his shaking hands into the large pocket to take out his portfolio as he continued his walk home. 

Not paying attention, he walked into a small form, causing them both to curse.

“Oi! Watch where you’re going will you?”

“Well it takes two so maybe you can just—” He looked up and is silenced by the vision in front of him. It’s her. The woman from the coffee shop. 

She crossed her arms against her chest, and he can’t even process the angry look on her face. Instead, he’s captivated by her eyes. He was wrong. The way her eyes shine in the sunlight are akin to mali garnets. Ben fought the urge to grab his pencils and start another sketch. 

“Maybe you can stop staring and apologize, eh?’

Her voice drew him out of his wayward thoughts. “Sorry, but to be fair, you were in the middle of the sidewalk.”

The corner of her lip twitched, and the image burned into his brain. Ben is surprised to find he seemed to be just as obsessed with her lips as her eyes.

“You look strong,” she said instead. Reaching over, she grabbed his bicep and squeezed. A pink flush appeared on his cheeks, and he was grateful for his dark hair to cover his equally pink ears.

“Um, thanks?”

“Make it up to me by helping me carry up this bookshelf.”

“Did you just buy it or something?”

“Or something. Didn’t your mum ever tell you to be nice to girls you just smacked into?”

“My mom tells me to just not be an asshole.”

A laugh bubbles out of her and surrounds them. He instantly imagined her laughter as a spring day, a small creek in the background while a storm brews on the horizon, the sun casting distorted rays over the forest.

“Alright, well don’t be an asshole and bring this to my floor.”

“Do you live here?”

“I thought that was obvious.”   
  
“Right, it’s just, I live here too. I haven’t seen you around before.”

The woman moved to one side of the bookshelf and braced herself to lift it. “I’m usually busy with school.”

Ben nodded along knowing this was one thing he could relate to. Although, he did typically spend his days locked in his room trying to produce some art to please his advisor. 

The conversation halted as they made their way up a couple of floors to stop in front of her apartment. 

“Do you need any help bringing it in?”

She eyed him warily. “You trying to murder me?”   
  


He sputtered before coughing out, “Why would you think that?”

“I don’t even know your name.”   
  
“It’s Ben.”

She chewed on her bottom lip for just a second before introducing herself. “I’m Rey. And I have a roommate, you know, just in case you get any funny ideas.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it.”

She turned around with her keys in hand, unlocking the door and pushed it open. He entered right behind her, taking a look around. The first thing he noticed was how mismatched everything was, yet how everything seamlessly blended together. It was comfortable, and homey. 

“Where’d you get your furniture from?” he asked as he propped against the open doorway.

“All over. See that end table by the couch? I found that just the other day. It just needed some care.”

“You’re a little scavenger, aren’t you?”

“Not the first time I heard it. Can you help me bring the bookshelf to my room?”

“Now, I’m starting to think you’re planning to murder me.”

“Don’t think I can take you, buddy. You’re built like a tree,” she laughed as she walked right past him to grab the bookshelf. 

He shook his head and continued on. As they made their way through the small hallway he observed the apartment was the exact same size as his, which meant her bedroom was smaller. They entered her bedroom and they set it in her room, looking around as they tried to find the best location for her furniture. 

His brown eyes raked over the room, trying to gain some insight into who she is, when they fell on familiar drawings on her wall.

“Where did you get that?”

“Hm?” Rey’s eyes followed his gaze and smiled proudly at the artwork hanging on her wall. “I found them! Aren’t they the most beautiful things you’ve ever seen?”

“Don’t—” he choked out, before stopping.

Noticing the change in tone, Rey turned to face him, staring at him worry in her eyes. “Ben, is everything okay?”

“Those aren’t yours. Didn’t you ever think you that the artist threw them away because they were garbage? Those weren’t yours to take!”

He didn’t realize he was yelling until she was pressed against the far wall, glaring at him with mistrust in her eyes. The color in her eyes went away, only displaying a dark and empty anger. 

“You have no right to say any of that to me. Get out of my apartment. Now!”   
  
“I will once you give me those pictures.”

“Not on your life. They are mine,” she growled.

“No, they aren’t. They belong in the trash. They are nothing. They are worth nothing.”

Rey shook her head at him, her eyes glistened in the light.

Fuck, he was ruining everything, but why couldn’t she just understand those weren’t worth a thnng. They were a waste of space. Once he achieved greatness, then he would paint her whatever she wanted, if she would let him. 

“Liar.”

Her voice was choked, closed off with some emotion, and that was when he noticed it. The empty and lonely gaze in her eyes that matched his. She knew what it was like to be nothing, to be nobody, to be thrown away. If she knew how it felt, then why didn’t she understand he was trying to make it better.

“These are the some of the most beautiful and captivating images I have ever seen. They may not be Van Gogh or Monet, but you can see the talent, the passion, the care they poured into these drawings. You don’t work at some fancy museum. Who are you to judge these drawings?”

His heart stopped for a minute, before the harsh breaths overtook his body. Eyes watering, he turned away from her to look at the wall. The last thing he wanted was for her to see him in such a vulnerable state. He already fucked this up before saving, crying in her apartment would have made things worse.

Ben could hear her shuffling behind him, and he wondered if he was about to be knocked unconscious just to wake up to the cops escorting him out of his own apartment building. 

A small hand grasped his forearm, and he looked up, startled to see Rey looking at him. There was still mistrust in her eyes, but not quite like before.

“Ben? What’s wrong?”

A watery chuckle escaped him as he realized she was holding a small baseball bat in her other hand. She was resourceful.

“Fuck, I’m sorry. It’s just—” He cut himself off, trying to compose himself with a shuddery breath. Squeezing his eyes shut, he groaned, “Those are my paintings.”

“Fuck off.”

“I wish I could. But those shit drawings are mine. I threw them away after a particular bad meeting with my advisor.”

“Prove it then.”

“What do you want me to do, draw you something?” his eyes widened.

“No, don’t you have any other works on you. Or I don’t know an artist’s signature?”

“Yeah, everyone does it’s—”   
  
“Nope. You draw it right here without looking any closer at my paintings. If they match, I’ll believe you, and I’ll give them back. Promise.”   
  


Pulling off his backpack, he set it down and rummaged for his portfolio. He yanked out his charcoal pencil and wrote the signature in the bottom corner, where he normally left it, and also drew one bigger for her eyes. He ripped the sheet out and handed it to her. 

Rey’s eyes roved over the sheet and then hopped on the bed, trying to find his same signature on the pages. It wasn’t until he heard her mutter a quiet  _ shit _ did he realize she found it.

“I guess these belong to you then,” she meekly told him. Before she could take the first one down however, he stopped her.

“Keep them. I don’t want them anyways. Like I said, they are garbage.”

She didn’t reply. In fact she didn’t say a thing. When he finally gained the courage to look up, he was surprised to find her studying the images with a hard scrutiny. His entire face flushed, knowing she was going to see all the flaws Snoke saw. 

She turned away from the images and stared at him, her head tilted as she examined him.

“Want to get something to drink?”

He blinked rapidly. “What?”

“Or a coffee, if you don’t drink alcohol. Whichever you want, really.”   
  
“Um, a coffee sounds nice.”

“I know a place.”

\----

The door opened and the bell jingled above them. 

“Rey, you’re not working tonight,” Rose called out from behind the counter.

“This is pleasure, not business. Mind if I go back and make some drinks?”

Rose just nodded her along and Rey made her way back there. She put together a cup of jasmine and lavender tea for themselves. Based on the amount of emotion he was showing, he needed something calming and soothing. If he needed something stronger, she resolved to make him another drink.

Carrying the two drinks in the cardboard cups, she set them gently down on the table where he chose to sit down.

She watched with amusement in her eyes as he took a sip and almost spit it up. Ben set the cup down and gently nudged it away from him.

“Not a fan of tea, huh?”

“Not really.”   
  
“It grows on you. I thought it might help relax you a bit.”   
  
Ben’s fingers began to fidget, and she noticed how he seemed to shut himself off from the world surrounding them, almost as if he would be berated for feeling too much.

“Do you have any more drawings or sketches?” she asked instead.

His hands tightened into fists, and he didn’t look at her. “A few.”   
  
“Mind if I look at them?”

“Why?” 

“I’m interested.”

Rey noticed the way he avoided her eyesight when he pushed the notebook to her. The drawings were rougher than what she had seen previously. Darker. Emptier. Angrier. 

Scattered within the notebook were a few lighter ones. An image of shadows surrounding lampposts with snow falling around. One of a dog she recognized that lived in their apartment building. 

They spent the time in silence as she looked each piece over, only letting it go to take sips of her cooling tea. She noticed he didn’t reach out for his tea again.

She finished it quietly and slid it across the table to him.

He fidgeted with the notebook, blushing as he tried to form words but could never get them out.

“What did you think?” he finally got out.

“To be honest, I’m partial to the ones in my bedroom, but these are really good. Why did you think they were garbage?”   
  
His large hands engulfed the cup of tea and twirled it in between his palms. “My advisor...he wants me to be the best I can be. I always submit my portfolio to him weekly, but lately nothing has ever been good enough. It’s true. They are worthless. They aren’t as good as my old stuff.”

“Ben, these are amazing. You shouldn’t doubt yourself like that just because one person doesn’t believe you. No one bought any of Van Gogh’s paintings until he died. Not that I’m saying that you won’t be famous until you die, or just as good as Van Gogh, but—” She cut herself off, frustrated the words weren’t coming out the way she wanted. “All that matters is these are good. You shouldn’t doubt yourself. And if your advisor is such a prick that he can’t help you instead of tearing yourself down, then you need a new advisor.”   
  
She could see her words didn’t have the effect she wanted them to on him, but they did have some effect. Trying to offer him the support he obviously needed, she reached her hand across the table, and placed her hand on his. The warmth from his hands comforted hers in a way she never felt before.

“Ben, I’ll help you.”

Their eyes met across the table, connection forming between the two. His eyes were full of disbelief and a hint of wonder. Her hazel eyes followed his as his brown eyes dropped to her lips and up again. Lips parts and their breathing was in sync. Her mouth was dry, and she felt her tongue dart out to wet them.

Ben opened his mouth, attempting to say something as he leaned in closer—

“You guys need anything?”

The two jumped apart as they stared at Rose, hands full with leftover dishware from the other tables.

Rey cleared her throat, praying they couldn’t see the blush that was on her cheeks. She grabbed her own tea, taking a drink and mumbling out a soft no.

“How long have you been studying art?”

She raised her eyebrows. “What makes you think I’m studying art? I’m a mechanical engineering student.”   
  


He barked out laughter. “Of course,” he leaned back in his chair, “the only person who believes in me doesn’t even know what good art is.”   
  
“I may know nothing about art to you, but I know what I like, and I like your drawings.”

They settled into silence, both thinking about the portraits he drew in different aspects. 

“Would you mind having dinner with me, Friday night?” he quietly asked, breaking her out of her thoughts.

“Like a date?”

“Um, yes, if you want. I could show you some of my other notebooks, and maybe you can show me...whatever it is an engineering student does?”

She grinned at him, “I’d love to.”

  
  


\----

Ben walked into his house, hearing the sounds of his crying five year old. He knew everything was fine, but that did nothing to stop the fear that rose in his heart as he marched his way forward to the dining area. 

He stopped as he saw his son furiously scribble his crayon onto a piece of paper.

“Ryan, what’s wrong? Where’s Mom?”

“She’s in the shower,” he sniffled.

“And why are you about to tear that piece of paper with your crayons?”

“I can’t draw this stupid tree. I wanted to make it for you before you came home, but the lines weren’t straight and it’s ugly.” 

Ben was alarmed to see his son began to cry harder.

“You know I used to think my drawings were ugly.”

Ryan stopped mid-wail and Ben’s heart broke as he saw fat tears still trail down his face. He looked just like his mother.

“Really?” Ryan asked, shock clear in his voice.

“Yep. It took a real special person to show me how good I actually was. I threw my paintings away, and one day I found them in their bedroom. They thought they were magnificent.”

“So I need someone to say it’s good?”

“If you want, but you also need to believe in yourself. If it’s ugly now, doesn’t mean it will always be ugly to other people. Drawing comes with practice, and mistakes get made. The best kind of pictures know how to include them”

Ben set his hand upon his kid’s head, then went into the kitchen to grab him a juice box.

“What a lovely story you told our child,” Rey said. She was standing in her bathrobe, hair wet and curling around her strong jaw. She was still as beautiful as the day he first saw her.

“Thought you might like it.”

“Speaking of drawings, since Ryan is going to be at his grandparent’s this weekend, I was thinking you could paint me like one of your French girls.”

Despite his groaning, the thought of her draped naked over their furniture was an enticing image. “You need a better pick up line,” he laughed, pulling her in for a hug.   
  
“You know you love it.”

He hummed in agreement, looking out in the dining room where the three images that brought them together were proudly displayed. 

“Not as much as I love you, my little Scavenger.”

**Author's Note:**

> Come say hi and support me here - [tumblr](https://commandercrouton.tumblr.com/) or on [twitter](https://twitter.com/Cmndr_Crouton)!


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